


Devour

by startwithsparks



Series: MMOM 2013 [2]
Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Cannibalism, Dreams, Gore, M/M, Masturbation, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-05
Updated: 2013-05-05
Packaged: 2017-12-10 12:27:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,380
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/786045
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/startwithsparks/pseuds/startwithsparks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A violent and intense dream rouses Will in the middle of the night, forcing him to take actions he would rather not be forced to take.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Devour

In the dream, he sat in Doctor Lecter's office, on the soft blue buttoned couch at the back of the room. He could hear the doctor above him, though he couldn't make out the words the other man was saying, only the sound of his voice from where he was fingering through his library. Will's brow furrowed and he looked around for Lecter, concerned as the sound grew fainter but he heard no footsteps to suggest that Lecter was walking away. Will shifted nervously, the cushions rustling under him as he tried to settle uncomfortably on the couch. It looked so delicate from far away, but now that he sat on it, he could feel the solid wood, ornately hand-carved, and the stiff, unforgiving upholstery. The color seemed less vibrant up close as well - a faded smoke-blue with worn buttons and fraying threads. It was clear that Lecter had taken impeccable care of it over the years, but it was still showing signs of its age; faint scuffs around the edges that told it was a genuine antique, from some bygone romantic era, and not just some replica.

The feeling of movement behind him broke Will's trance and, spinning as he stood, came face-to-face with Doctor Lecter himself. He'd moved soundlessly down the stairs and through the room and closed in on Will like a predator on his prey. Will wasn't easily startled, though - least of all in his dreams - and he took a careful step back, shoulders squared in attempted defiance. Lecter smirked at him, a slight twitch at the corner of his mouth that glittered brightly in his eyes. Will wouldn't call the smile _wolfish_ , but there was something almost serpentine about it, distinctly sinister and yet all at once impossibly inviting. Will had felt the draw of it before, that slithering sensation that prickled the fine hairs on his arms and the back of his neck and left a chill working its way down his spine. Lecter had an imposing presence, a kind of exquisite grace and command that couldn't be denied. He was brilliant, seething with culture, and everything he touched seemed to turn into art. Will, constantly humbled and terrified and aroused in his presence, could only wonder what it would be like to be worked and molded by those hands.

But in a dream, he couldn't tamp those feelings down, he couldn't bury them away at the base of his spine under years of carefully-sculpted willpower the way he was often able to do in waking life. Instead, he let himself get lured into Lecter's gaze, slowly gravitating closer to him as Lecter stared him down, unyielding, his gaze as piercing as ever. Will couldn't look away, or anywhere else but in Lecter's dark eyes. He thought he saw them shift, slit, but in a blink, they were back to normal again, though no less unnerving than they had ever been. Perhaps his dream enhanced certain things about the other man, like the depth of his gaze, the sharp rise of his cheekbones, the elegant curve of his lower lip, or the electrical charge that rippled across Will's skin when he was near. All those things were now more pronounced, and Will had a hard time focusing on anything else.

That was the disadvantage in the end. He was too busy staring at Lecter's exquisitely-designed face to notice the man's hand coming up from his side until Lecter's fingers were already in his hair. He shuddered at the feeling, nails scraping his scalp but allowed Lecter to draw him further in, his eyes sliding closed.

He couldn't so much feel Lecter's mouth against his own as he could sense him there, the careful press of his lips, pushing Will's mouth open, sucking gently on his lower lip. For some reason, it was shocking that the man was so tender with him, but it made the experience easier for Will to indulge in. After a few moments, he even started to enjoy himself, kissing back, hands coming up to rest on Lecter's hips, and fingers clutching at his well-tailored waistcoat. His clothing was always so impeccable and it came as no surprise to Will that it felt just as lush as it looked. Everything about Lecter was entrancing, his clothes should have the same effect that the rest of him did.

But no sooner than Will started to give himself over to the feeling of being kissed, Lecter trailed away from his lips and across his rough-stubbled jaw. Teeth grazed teasingly against his flesh and despite himself, Will leaned in. His body flinched towards the unspoken permission, and Lecter gripped him tighter. It was as if he wanted to hold Will in place and, a moment later, he found out why. Teeth sunk heavy into the skin of his throat, heat flooding his body as blood burst forward through the wound. But Lecter wasn't drinking it, he was letting it spill down Will's body, soaking his clothes to his flesh and trailing down his arms and fingertips. Lecter tore into him again, just next to the first wound, and again, swallowing chunks of his flesh whole. He devoured Will one piece at a time, his mouth dripping with blood and bits of meat. All the while Will continued to hold tight to him, feeling light-headed and high on endorphins. His whole body seized and shuddered, and a moan tumbled from his parted lips.

He woke sitting upright in bed, sweat drenching his teeshirt, grasping at his face and neck and pulling his hands away to check for blood. They were clean, of course, but since he'd started sleepwalking he could never be sure what he was doing to himself in his sleep. He was also excruciatingly hard. That was not as easy to cope with as the sweat sticking his teeshirt and shorts to his skin or the feeling of sticky warmth dripping down his neck. For a moment Will contemplated rolling over and trying to force himself back to sleep. He knew how futile that would be, so with a reluctant grimace and a gaze cast at the dogs sleeping soundly across the room, he shoved his blankets off and pushed himself out of bed, stumbling awkwardly through the darkness towards his bathroom.

He felt a bit like a drunk man groping through the dark, but at least he was mostly sure he was awake now. He clicked the light on, shielding his eyes from the harsh light until they had time to adjust. Slumped over the sink, he twisted on the cold water and cupped his hands under the faucet, splashing water on his face and rubbing it through sweat-drenched hair and down the back of his neck. He tugged his teeshirt off and let it fall to the floor, bending down over the basin to splash water along his neck too. It was no use. The tension coiled tightly in his gut persisted, perhaps harder than before now that his heart was racing.

Will staggered back from the sink until his back hit the wall behind him and then slid down to the floor, knees tucked up against his chest. As much as he hated to do it - to even _think_ about doing it - he thrust a hand into his shorts and wrapped his fist around himself. Will let out an unsteady breath as the back of his head thumped against the wall, letting his legs fall carelessly out in front of him. He squeezed his eyes closed, trying his hardest not to think about what he was doing to force his body as quickly as possible over the brink so he could go back to bed. Every time hints of the dream tried to slip into his mind, he shoved them back down brutally, refusing to think about the feel of Lecter's mouth on his, teeth sinking into the skin of his throat, slowly consuming him. If it was merely work getting to him, he didn't think the stress would present itself like this, but he refused to delve any deeper than that into his own analysis. He knew what lingered at the end of that hallway and it wasn't something he had any desire to unearth; not now, not ever.


End file.
